


Sophomore Slump Or Comeback Of The Year

by Pinkstationfrerard



Category: Bandom, Fall Out Boy
Genre: Fluff, High School, High School AU, M/M, Peterick, Short, but not really, kind of a coffee shop au, pete being dumb and hitting on patrick a lot, young fob
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-20
Updated: 2015-01-20
Packaged: 2018-03-08 08:21:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,878
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3202253
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pinkstationfrerard/pseuds/Pinkstationfrerard
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fall out boy isn't an actual band yet, because they don't exactly have a singer. Pete wentz is not an occupational hazard, and he totally did not do anything but fall in love with Patrick the moment he saw him, the moment he heard him sing.</p><p>Sort of High School AU.</p><p>(Also Gabe is in here for some reason)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sophomore Slump Or Comeback Of The Year

**Author's Note:**

> this was originally a short story for my English class, but i tweaked it to be more fanfic-friendly :)

Pete Wentz was not an occupational hazard.

Sure, he did dumb stuff occasionally. Everyone did dumb stuff.

He sure wasn’t expecting the biggest of all the dumb things he’s ever done was to listen to someone sing, but it turned out to be the dumbest a best decision on young, 17-year-old Pete Wentz’s life.

When Pete first met Patrick, he knew it was fate. God, destiny, something. He was pretty whatever about the reasons behind it, but he knew that it was meant to be.

It all started with Gabe, Pete’s semi-annoying friend who dragged him along into the majority of the stupid things Pete did, telling him about this dude’s amazing voice that he had apparently heard outside the band room. Which, by the way, totally uncool. Gabe did not know how to keep his big ears to himself.

“Dude, this guy Patrick can sing. Like, really, really well. He’s even shorter than you, which is an accomplishment in itself. He's a sophomore, too, so it's not like he hasn't hit puberty yet or something.” 

Gabe had Pete wrapped around his forceful clutch as he said this, probably cutting off circulation or something to every inch of Pete’s tanned skin on his body. Pete failed to punch him and ended up just flailing his free arm about, glaring at his capturer. Gabe was pretty good at finding talent. Not as good as Pete was, though, so he always ran ideas and members through Pete before just saying “You’re in the band!”. Pete knew better than to trust Gabe, too. In fact, Peter didn’t trust any teenage boys after meeting Gabe. He couldn’t even pay attention during practices, christ.

“Right, okay. Where are you dragging me to, anyway? Are we meeting him somewhere?”

Gabe stretched his lips into a thin line, considering. “Uh, well, yeah. Kinda. Joe said that he may or may not be meeting us and the rest of the band at the coffee shop, but I’m not exactly sure if he’ll be joining us. He’s pretty quiet. Oh, and totally your type. Come on, it’s right up there!” He said in an excited voice, practically bouncing on his heels while they walked down the street. 

Pete figured that is was one of those “Gabe being Gabe and also being very forceful and making people join their not very good pop punk band” things, but you never know.

“An actual singer. For our band. I thought we’d never get one after Frank left.” Pete said, trying to wiggle out of Gabe’s grasp unsuccessfully.

“This is real. Dude. You have to hear him, he’s fantastic.” Gabe rushed, turning his body towards Peter and finally, finally, releasing Pete’s arm. At this point, Pete didn’t even bother complaining about how I’ll never get feeling back in my arm, you idiot because they just finally got to the coffee shop, and he heard a very quiet, very pretty voice from the counter.

“Um, I’m sorry, I think I forgot my wallet at home and I’m meeting people soon so I guess I’ll just go sit down or something I’m sorry,” he said in a rushed tone.

That must’ve been the dude, Patrick, and when he turned around with wide eyes, Pete’s heart skipped a beat. This guy was probably two inches shorter than Pete, which was practically a heroic feat, and looked like a ball of sunshine. His strawberry blonde bangs peeked out of his black fedora, and his pale skin contrasted with his baby blue button up with short sleeves that allowed his milky white arms to spill out. He was perfect. 

“Did it hurt?” Pete said at the perfect angel before him, who had pretty blue-green eyes open wide.

“Um, d-did what hurt?”Patrick stammered, clutching one hand onto his other pale arm that hadn’t quite lost it’s baby fat, like the rest of his body. Gabe started snickering, making little comments that sounded like “oh, boy” and “I knew it. knew it”.

“When you fell from heaven?” Pete continued. 

At this point, Gabe was hysterical. Pete hated him. 

“Shut up.” Pete grumbled, shoving Gabe playfully and eyeing up patrick again. He was blushing, and wow, that line actually worked? Maybe since the guy was so pale, everything just made him blush. Hopefully not, because Pete felt proud of himself. 

The guy working the coffee shop was staring at them, and Pete stepped in with his man-charm. “You said you forgot your wallet? Dont worry, I’ll pay for you, angel. By the way, I’m Pete.” He smirked, leaning against the counter to stare at Patrick’s flushed face. He ran a hand through his short, black hair that always stuck up all over the place but at least didn’t make him look like a 14 year-old scene kid like his last haircut.

“Oh, um, yeah. T-thank you. Patrick. My-my name.”

He was too precious, stammering on every other word and staring at his shoes like they were the most interesting thing in the world. Gabe was right.

“So, you want to join our band? Andrew and Joe are coming soon, I think. Then we can try out that voice of yours!” Gabe started, shifting around the two boys to look at the menu. “Ooh, they have chai. Nothing better than chai.”

“I don’t know why you think my voice is good, really, I don’t know why I even came here. It’s just going to be a dead end, I’m nothing special.” Patrick said shyly, not making eye contact with either one of the taller boys. 

“It’ll be okay, don’t your worry your pretty little head.” Gabe said before planting a big, wet kiss on Peter’s cheek, followed by a bunch of disgusted noises from Gabe’s victim.  
“Gabriel, not only are you disgusting, seriously, get your mouth away from me freak, you are so going to be killed later.” Pete challenged, wiping his cheek on Gabe’s sleeve. That guy had the nastiest breath ever, seriously. “I’m sure your voice is as pretty as you, Pattycakes.” 

Pete added with the biggest grin he could manage, he couldn’t help but beam at the way Patrick’s face got that pink tinge so easily. “He’s prettier than me, I’ll understand if you leave me for him.” Gabe sighed with fake longing, and Pete grimaced.

“Everyone’s prettier than you, you ugly duckling.” Pete said, sticking out his tongue. “Come on, lets find a table.”

Eventually, everyone got situated, Andy and Joe arrived, and Pete was ready to bounce off the walls. He had not only had his own coffee, but stole half of Gabe’s as well, much to his friend’s dismay.

“So we’re going to the band room after this, right? Not that I don’t like gossiping with you guys, I do, but I actually want to try out this new singer for our band. Which, speaking of, we still haven’t named our singerless band.”Joe said, sipping on black coffee (“I like my coffee how I like my metal”-Joe Trohman, 5 minutes prior).

“We didn’t name the band because we don’t have a singer!” Pete chirped, grinning at Patrick for the 15th time in about the last, 10 minutes or so, give or take. 

Andy just sat there quietly, drumming on the circular table all the boys were sitting around. 

“We can leave once Pete stops making love-eyes at a potential member.” Gabe said, ignoring the way Pete suddenly scowled and shut his eyes dramatically.

“Yeah, come on, drama queen, let’s get you hypered down and maybe, if we’re lucky, come up with a band name that doesn’t have any swear words or racial slurs in it.” Joe said, rolling his eyes and getting out of his seat. Everyone eventually followed, Patrick lingering in the back of the group, unsure of where his place was until Pete threw an arm around Patrick and grinning madly, Patrick’s face softening with the contact.

The “band room” was really just Pete’s house, and the only reason Pete probably was still in the band was because they didn’t really have any other garage to pour all their equipment into. He wasn’t exactly a good bass player, maybe just a mediocre one.

Now, patrick. He was amazing, from the moment he picked up a guitar lying around the makeshift studio he could start playing riffs of both recognizable and new songs to Pete’s on-the-verge-of-vast knowledge of music.

“Bowie, nice.” Joe commented, going to the back to get his guitar and plug it into the cheap amps around the makeshift studio. He started playing along, luckily knowing that song, and Andy stepped behind the drums, doing the signature “One, two, three four!”with his drumsticks while Pete was stuck just standing there, not making a move to grab his bass yet.

And then, Patrick sang.

Pete felt like someone had punched him in the chest, because, wow, Gabe was actually spot-on this time around. This kid was as talented as Pete was untalented. And Pete was in love.

Also, unable to move from the spot where he was stuck to the floor, standing next to Gabe and just watching, mesmerized by the way Patrick seemed to lean and rock with the words, like the flowed through his body. The way his eyes scrunched up more at certain words, the way his mouth looked on his O’s. The way patrick and music just seemed to click, connect and work together like magic.

“Don’t just stand there, Way. Get your freaking guitar.” Gabe said, nudging Pete out of his trance. Gabe was their “band manager”, a.k.a the guy who had talked all of the member’s moms into letting the band be formed, and the guy assigned to the task of finding them a singer.

And boy, did they find one. Patrick couldn’t have been anything other than a beautiful angel with a gorgeous voice and pretty mouth  
.  
Pete waited until the song faded out and Joe messed up his chords too bad for any hope of revival before whooping, loud and excited.

“We’ve got us a singer!” he said, beaming and running up to Patrick to engulf him in an all-encasing hug. Patrick smelled sweet, like blueberry muffins and sunshine. Pete couldn’t even possibly resist, it was like the man above had planted the perfect boy in front of Pete.

“So amazing.” Pete said before laying a chaste kiss to Patrick’s mouth, watching his eyes go wide in shock before throwing his arms around pete’s neck, giggling and kissing him back like no one else was in the room.

“You met this guy, what, an hour ago? I gotta admit, you got moves, Way.” Joe said smugly, crossing his arms over his chest and guitar. All the other boys were watching them, having seen the whole scene, and Patrick’s face flushed deep crimson.

“Oh, you’re so cute when you’re embarrassed.” Pete smirked, pulling away from Patrick after kissing his cheek one last time.

“I think I just threw up a little in my mouth.” Gabe said, fake-wiping tears from below his eyes.

“And I think we’ve just found ourselves an official band.” Joe said, fist-pumping Andy, who still his drumsticks in his clenched fists.

Pete smiled at Patrick, looking down at the shorter, adorable boy.

“I think you’re right.”


End file.
